


For once there is nothing up my sleeve

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (with hints of romance if you desire to take them as such), Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: Life is good.There was a time, not so long ago all told, when he wouldn’t have considered such a statement possible. Yet now he thinks such thoughts on a daily basis.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 24
Kudos: 70





	For once there is nothing up my sleeve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoloXam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/gifts).



> Happy birthday dearest Holo. I hope you have a day that is even half as wonderful as you are. I love you so much <3
> 
> Enjoy some soft QPR Zoscar!
> 
> (Title from Sight of the Sun by fun. again because I love that song)

Life is good.

There was a time, not so long ago all told, when he wouldn’t have considered such a statement possible. Yet now he thinks such thoughts on a daily basis.

Oscar smiles, stretching out his right leg and hearing the knee joint pop. He exhales slowly, satisfied - it’s been stiff all day, and finally he’s free of the ache. Beside him, Zolf tuts as he always does when Oscar’s body makes its age known. He could heal it all, but there’s something _earned_ about it for Oscar. A life well lived has led to a retirement selfishly coveted. He’s allowed to age here, be it gracefully or otherwise.

He squeezes Zolf’s hand, looking over to see his husband smiling at him already.

“What?”

Zolf is particularly lovely like this, at rest, no worries, no responsibilities. “Nothin’.”

Oscar hums, setting his book down on his lap and reaching out with his unoccupied hand to snatch up the remains of his digestif. It’s a particularly lovely, warming concoction that Cel taught him how to cook up the last time they visited. Zolf’s chosen domain might extend from the kitchen to their little vegetable garden, but his is now found down in the cellar, and encompasses all of the local hedgerows.

Zolf feeds them both and he gets them drunk. It’s quite the combination.

“How did the writing go today?”

There are days when that’s a dangerous question. When it would even be enough to cause Oscar to drop Zolf’s hand and retreat into himself for a time. But tonight it makes him smile, safety and accomplishment unfurling in him like a flower beneath the sun.

“ _Very_ well. I think I might make my deadline after all.”

Zolf laughs, snapping his book closed and flailing a little to set it down on his side table without letting go of Oscar’s hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Oscar doesn’t quite choke on his drink, but it’s a close run thing. He really should know to time his imbibing better. “Ouch. Darling, you wound me.”

“M’proud of you.” Zolf says, then pulls a bit of a face and gives into a yawn, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth.

It’s as charming as ever to see Zolf display the effects of his own hard work, rather than having to force himself on through ridiculous mission after ridiculous mission. As serious as it gets for him now is a full day in the garden, readying the ground for new life now that the last of the frosts appear to have passed.

“Bed?”

He expects Zolf to protest, to make some sniping comment about how he wouldn't be so tired if he wasn’t making sure all of Oscar’s favourite vegetables get the best start in life. Instead, Zolf squeezes his hand one final time and gets up, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

One of the greatest gifts that Oscar thinks the universe has given him is getting to see Zolf Smith at his quietest, his most reflective. His softest. His most vulnerable.

Their bathroom is large enough to allow for their own sinks and a lovely oversized roll-top bath that he’s tempted to suggest they fill up tonight. Only Zolf’s already got into pyjamas and Oscar’s weary enough that he suspects they might both fall asleep in there and end up like prunes. The morning, then. Nothing more indulgent than a steaming hot bath in the morning.

He moves back to let Zolf get to his sink and then sighs, stepping in behind him as they both finish up their evening routines, resting a hand on his shoulder. He looks so weary that Oscar entertains the chivalrous notion of carrying him to bed for all of a moment… then reconsiders.

Oscar fetches up the medicated cream that they use on Zolf’s legs as they wander back to bed. It’s become quite a calming thing, for both of them, this little routine. It reminds him of how Zolf used to take care of his scar, in those awful days in Japan.

Zolf pushes up onto the edge of the bed and Oscar settles on the floor, helping him off with the prosthetics.

“How are they today?”

Zolf winces, shifting each leg slowly. They’re a little red, but not too bad. “Tired, mostly. Lots of kneeling.”

Oscar hums, leaning in and kissing both legs before opening the little glass pot. “Hm, we’re running low.”

Zolf exhales slowly and contentedly as Oscar begins to massage the cream into his skin. “I’ll send an order to Azu. Maybe we could have everyone over for a weekend. It’s been a while.”

Oscar grins up at him. “I’d like that. Cel promised to show me how to make sake.”

Zolf’s eyes roll upwards fondly. “Gods help us both.”

Oscar chuckles as he finishes up, patting Zolf’s thigh and getting to his feet. Getting drunk with Zolf is another one of his favourite things, now that neither of them is using it to escape the ache in their souls. He knows Zolf feels the same, which is part of the reason he asked Cel to teach him in the first place…

By the time he’s gone to the bathroom and back, Zolf is tucked up in bed, his lamp already extinguished. Oscar picks his way carefully across to the wardrobe and changes, folding his clothes up with care that magic could do just as well. He turns back to Zolf and finds eyes tracking his movements even in the dark. An unfair advantage, if he ever heard of one.

Zolf’s arm comes up automatically when he gets under the covers, and cuddling up to his husband’s chest is hardly a chore. He hums, turning his face into Zolf’s throat and inhaling the scent of the beard oil he gave as a Solstice gift the year previous.

“Hey.” Zolf says eventually, dragging a hand up over Oscar’s shoulder to gently cup his jaw.

He goes when Zolf pulls, enjoying the little flip that his stomach does at the look in his husband’s eyes. The press of Zolf’s lips is warm and tender and makes him groan, just a little. It’s one of those gentle, affirming embraces that makes him warm all over, his hand gripping Zolf’s bicep hard as he strains up for more contact.

Eventually Zolf pulls away, breathless and flushed, and Oscar can’t help but snuggle in a little closer, hooking his arm around Zolf’s torso.

“Goodnight, darling.” He says, feeling Zolf’s arm come up to cradle his head. He rests his ear over the thudding beat of Zolf’s heart and hides a smile in the soft material of his shirt.

The last thing he hears before sleep melts over him like a blanket is:

“Sleep well, Oscar.”


End file.
